


Dudael

by tacocatjones



Category: Good Omens (TV)
Genre: Bondage, Face-Fucking, M/M, Wax Play
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-10
Updated: 2019-09-10
Packaged: 2020-10-13 22:33:59
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,906
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20590193
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tacocatjones/pseuds/tacocatjones
Summary: According to the Book of Enoch, the archangel Raphael had once bound the great demon Azazel hand and foot, covered his face to cast him into darkness, and sentenced him to punishment by fire.Aziraphale was no Raphael, but he could make do. He wondered if the archangel had felt the same satisfaction that he felt now, looking down with pleasure at the demon subdued at his feet, bound and blind and begging for his punishment.Then again, it wasn’t quite the same. For one thing, Aziraphale rather doubted Raphael had been using shibari rope bondage and molten candle wax when he had brought his demon low.





	Dudael

**Author's Note:**

> yeah i dunno i guess i write good omens porn now

This was something written into the very fabric of his being, Aziraphale reflected. He was an angel; he had been made with Purpose. It went beyond his assignment in Eden; guarding the Eastern Gate had been his job, but it was not all that he was meant for.

Aziraphale had deeper callings within him, ones that demanded he do what he was _ made _to do. There was the instinct to right wrongs; the urge to deliver justice; the demand within him to protect innocence, and seek righteousness.

Not least among these, there was also the overwhelming desire to bind and punish evil in all its forms.

According to the Book of Enoch, the archangel Raphael had once bound the great demon Azazel hand and foot, covered his face to cast him into darkness, and sentenced him to punishment by fire.

Aziraphale was no Raphael, but he could make do. He wondered if the archangel had felt the same satisfaction that he felt now, looking down with pleasure at the demon subdued at his feet, bound and blind and begging for his punishment. 

Then again, it wasn’t quite the same. For one thing, Aziraphale rather doubted Raphael had been using shibari rope bondage and molten candle wax when he had brought his demon low.

Crowley made quite the sight, like this. He was nude, except for the criss-crossing of ropes as they held him tightly in place on his knees, hunched forward, his ankles bound to his thighs and his arms bound elbow to wrist behind his back, the rope twisted and wrapped in truly beautiful patterns around and across him. He had been bound like this for quite some time--luckily, neither of them were constrained to human limits.

Still, Aziraphale was looking forward to seeing what marks the rope had left on this demon’s skin, later.

The angel had much earlier tied a tartan ascot tightly across Crowley’s eyes, keeping him in darkness; Aziraphale wanted him to _ feel _ his punishments, with no distractions diluting the sensations. There was a great deal of dried candle wax across Crowley’s shoulders and back already, splattering and striping him in red, and Aziraphale tilted the lit candle he held to allow a little more wax to join it.

Crowley gasped when it hit him, the muscles of his back shivering where they were held tight by the ropes. Aziraphale could see the sheer effort it took him to stay still and keep from crying out; blindfolded and tied up, he had no way of knowing when the next burst of sensation would arrive, and the anticipation had him tied up in as many knots as Aziraphale had.

Aziraphale was particularly fond of dripping the molten wax directly on where his wings would be, were they manifested. A reminder, of sorts.

The angel hummed to himself and leaned closer, tipping the candle much more slowly, so that instead of splashing, a large bead of hot wax landed to slowly run a long, slow course down Crowley’s spine. His back flexed, skin twitching where the hot wax slid down, leaving him painted with it as it cooled to solid.

Red was his color, Aziraphale decided.

The candle was stout, but it was getting low with only a few inches left, so he turned it over and pressed the wick end right between Crowley’s shoulder blades, putting it out against his skin. The demon flinched and gasped a breath that was more sob than not, but he didn’t move from his position, and he didn’t cry out.

“Good boy,” Aziraphale praised him, twisting the end of the candle against him one final time before lifting it away. He moved to stand in front of Crowley, waiting for a long moment to take action again; after all, if punishment was predictable, it wouldn’t be effective.

From this vantage point, he could see how hard Crowley was, his cock flushed almost as hot and red as the candle wax had been. The angel smiled at the sight; he was looking forward to doing things to that cock in the near future.

For the moment though, he had different plans. He reached out, sliding his hand into Crowley’s hair, savoring the small flinch at the unexpected contact. “Good boy,” he repeated, just to watch the demon shiver, before he abruptly fisted his hand in Crowley’s hair, pulling the hair tight and yanking Crowley’s head back.

The demon’s mouth opened in a silent cry, but he did so very well, keeping his voice silent. A tear slipped out from under the edge of the blindfold, and Aziraphale smiled. The open mouth was a temptation of its own, and the angel pushed the rounded butt end of the extinguished candle against Crowley’s bottom lip, pressing hard. The demon snuck a bit of serpentine tongue out to chase the sensation; there was a sharp intake of breath when he tasted wax instead of what he had been expecting.

“Are you surprised?” Aziraphale asked, amused. Crowley knew better than to voice an answer, but the angel could see the way his throat bobbed as he swallowed heavily.

“Well, if you want to suck my cock that badly, I suppose you _ have _ earned yourself a reward.” He kept his hand fisted in Crowley’s hair, and leaned over to speak directly into his ear. “Color, dear?”

“Green, green, so _ fucking green _,” Crowley rasped, voice already nearly ruined. 

Aziraphale smiled, not that Crowley could see it. “You have a new task, now. I need you to hold this bit of candle in your hands. If you drop it, everything ends, understand? No more punishment for you.”

“Please, don’t stop--” Crowley gasped, and Aziraphale gave him a sharp tug of his hair to cut him off.

“No speaking. You know better.”

Crowley just whimpered and nodded his head as much as he could against the angel’s tight grip.

Pleased, Aziraphale leaned further across him to place the stub bit of candle into the demon’s hands where they were tightly bound behind his back. They were tied facing each with the fingers loose, but they were rotated at an awkward angle, and Crowley’s arms had been bound back behind him like this for quite some time now. Holding onto even just a bit of candle would take focus and effort on his part; a safety switch and a punishment, all at once.

Aziraphale did so love to be efficient.

Crowley’s fingers grasped onto the bit of candle like it was life or death, and it was quite a lovely feeling having this demon struggle so much for this, trying so very hard to be good for Aziraphale despite his nature.

Aziraphale did not remove his hand from Crowley’s hair, but instead just used his other hand to free his cock from his trousers, as he had until now remained fully dressed. He was only half hard, but he expected that to change quickly; Crowley tended to be very enthusiastic and he could do some very weird things with his tongue.

Crowley’s mouth was warm and wet, and sure enough, the head of Aziraphale’s cock was barely past his lips before had his inhumanly long tongue was running delightfully up and down the full length of the underside. He willingly gave the demon a minute to freely use his mouth while he came to full hardness; mercy was angelic.

Then it was time to take the demon back to heel.

Aziraphale tightened his grip on Crowley’s hair, the only warning the demon would get, then used that grip to start working his head up and down the angel’s cock, forcibly setting the pace. It wasn’t grueling, just yet, but it wouldn’t do to have the demon think he was in control here.

The view he had was stunning. Looking down from above was the perfect angle to view the gorgeous way the ropes strained against Crowley’s limbs, the beautiful symmetry with which they dug into his skin. The vantage point made the wax left on the demon’s skin look like art, like paint splashed across a canvas, and the contrast between the precise knots and loops of rope, and the wanton, careless stripes of wax was exquisite.

“You are beautiful like this,” Aziraphale told the demon, conversationally, as he rocked his hips lightly in opposition to the demanding grip of his hand. Crowley didn’t make a noise--good, good boy that he was--but the angel could see him shiver, could see the way his fingers tightened on the candle stub.

Aziraphale hummed in pleasure. “I think you were made for this,” he commented, shoving Crowley’s head a bit harder on each push down. “You were meant for me.” It felt like it, anyways. 

He knew it was all a bit mixed up, the way his angelic instincts got warped, filtering through his corporeal human body. It was hard to complain, though, when he was enjoying the pure pleasure of having a demon brought to his knees in front of him, submitting to his judgement.

Aziraphale paused in the pace he had set for Crowley, taking a moment to still his hips and press his hand hard against the back of Crowley’s head, guiding him down his cock, further and further, until he had taken his full length in. The head of his cock was pressing into the demon’s throat, and he swallowed around it, once, twice, three times, even as his long tongue wrapped around the shaft inside his mouth.

But then Crowley started to pull his head back, endurance running short, and no, that would not do, not at all. Aziraphale put his other hand into Crowley’s hair as well, and dug them both in, forcibly holding the demon in place. The lovely way his lips stretched around the base of his cock was just too sublime of a vision to lose. He was truly made for this, the angel decided 

Crowley started gagging and choking on the angel’s cock almost immediately, but he didn’t make a noise and he didn’t lose his grasp of the candle, so Aziraphale didn’t take pity on him. It wasn’t until tears started running from under the blindfold that the angel finally had mercy and let him up. 

The demon coughed and gasped, throat working as he sucked in air, and Aziraphale gave him a very generous few seconds to recover. Then he grabbed his head and shoved him back down again.

He started face-fucking the demon in earnest, driving his hips forward even as he pulled Crowley to him by his hair, relishing in the wet, choking sounds each thrust drew. Crowley’s face was red and wet with tears where it wasn’t covered by the blindfold, his mouth held open as slack as he could manage, throat working in a vain attempt to keep pace. It sounded and looked obscene, and felt utterly divine.

“You are mine, you know,” Aziraphale told him, voice slipping into a groan. “Mine to punish, mine to reward, mine to keep.” He emphasized each ‘mine’ with a hard thrust. He flicked his eyes to Crowley’s hands; they were nearly white-knuckled with how desperately they clung to the candle stub. He bit his lip, feeling a surge of pleasure at how hard his demon was trying to be good.

He was close now, very close. A few moments later and he felt himself about to tip over that edge, driven by the beautiful sight on the end of his cock. He pulled Crowley’s head away, though, and forced him down into a deeper kneel, making room so that he could finish himself with his hand, coming in stripes across the back of Crowley’s shoulders, and across the wax and stretch of rope there.

Aziraphale imagined this was what it felt like when an artist signed a masterpiece.

He slowly pulled himself through the aftershocks of his orgasm, before tucking himself back into his trousers and putting himself back to rights. Crowley spent this time gasping and coughing, making little quiet sobs as he caught his breath.

Aziraphale reached to cup his face with both hands, moving to kneel in front of him. He slid his thumbs under the edge of the blindfold, wiping away tears, even as his fingertips gently rubbed at the corners of Crowley’s jaw, helping to loosen them .

“Color, dear?” he asked, gently. From this angle he could see how achingly hard Crowley still was.

Crowley gave a small, rough laugh. “Green,” he croaked, voice a complete wreck. “Still very green.”

Aziraphale pressed his lips to the crown of Crowley’s head. “You’ve been very good. Time for your final reward.” He pressed a finger to the demon’s lips, to remind him to be good and quiet for him, and walked on his knees to settle behind him and slightly to one side.

From here, he was only inches away from his handiwork, and it was truly divine. He let his eyes rove across the wax and rope while he took a quick moment to get some lube on his hand and warmed up; then he reached around Crowley to grasp his hard cock with that slick hand. The demon hissed a breath, but didn’t make a noise, so Aziraphale began giving him long, firm pulls, his eyes tracing the ropes right in front of them while he moved.

He worked Crowley over steadily, listening to his breath grow harsher, watching how he shook, feeling how he twitched and trembled.

“You’re so very, very good,” Aziraphale praised him, voice gentle. “Come for me, love.”

And Crowley gasped and did just that, spilling across Aziraphale’s hand and the floor. A dropped candle stub softly landed on the ground right after.

Aziraphale gave him a couple of minutes to catch his breath and bring his shivering under control, and then he started the process of freeing him from his bonds. He gently ran his hands down the sides of Crowley’s shoulders to soothe him, waiting until he seemed steady, and then he pressed his head close to the demon’s.

“Blindfold first or last?” he asked, and Crowley tilted his head like he was considering it.

“Last,” he finally answered, voice rough and slurred.

Aziraphale hummed in acknowledgement, and left the ascot tied around his face, starting in on the ropes instead. He was as gentle about it as possible; loosening a knot at a time, freeing first hands, then wrists, then elbows, stopping each time to rub the aches and stiffness out of the muscles that had been locked into position for so long.

He was very careful with his miracles, though. He healed enough to free movement and take out the sting, but not so much the marks would fade from Crowley’s skin. Aziraphale wanted those marks to remain as long as possible.

He wanted them there forever, if he was being completely honest.

Crowley remained limp and pliant while he worked, letting his hands fall into his lap even once his arms were completely freed. Aziraphale summoned a warm wash cloth to his hand at that point, to wipe his back clear of wax and other fluids. There were little pink welts, like freckles, where particularly molten bits of wax had scalded the demon’s skin. Aziraphale kissed each one lightly as it was revealed.

He finally freed Crowley’s legs and rubbed the stiffness out of them, gently rearranging the demon until he was sitting back with his legs in front instead of the kneel he had been locked into.

“Come on, dear,” Aziraphale cajoled him. “Let’s get you into bed.”

Crowley just made a vague noise in response, so Aziraphale ducked down to bring his arm over his shoulder and haul him upright himself. He half led, half dragged the demon to his bed, and helped him settle back into it, climbing into bed with him to sit beside him.

“Can I take your blindfold off now?” Aziraphale asked, hand pressed to the side of his face. The demon nodded a bit, so he tugged the blindfold away, slowly and carefully.

Crowley’s golden snake eyes gazed back up at him, eyes half lidded and unfocused. Aziraphale combed his hair back from his face and watched the slow blink that the demon took as he did so.

“How are you doing, dear?” Aziraphale asked, smiling down at that beautiful face he so adored.

Crowley closed his eyes and smiled back, clearly on the borderline of drifting off to sleep. “‘M good,” he mumbled, voice still harsh.

“You are very good,” Aziraphale agreed, drawing a twitch of the lips. He leaned down to kiss those same lips, slow and languid and easy. “I love you, dear,” he said softly, when he pulled back away.

“...you too,” Crowley murmured, sleepy and somehow still shy. 

Aziraphale just smiled and shifted around, gently adjusting Crowley, rearranging things so that he was laying on his back with Crowley half laying on top of him, head pillowed on his chest. Crowley was out like a light almost as soon as he had them situated; Aziraphale would not be joining him in sleep, but there was still pleasure to be found here, cuddling his demon and tracing his fingers along the rope-marks on all the skin in reach while they passed the night away.

Aziraphale knew he was made for this; but he also knew that he was made for Crowley. Sometimes it really did all work out.

**Author's Note:**

> i feel it is perhaps necessary to specify that these are two immortal entities, and what safe sex looks like for them isn't what safe sex looks like for us humans. crowley doesn't actually need to breathe, he's just choking for fun. don't try it at home kids


End file.
